WILLIAM HEMINGE. THIS writer was the son of John Heminge the famous player, who was contemporary with Shakspeare, and whose name is prefixed, together with that of Condell, to the folio edition of the FROM "THE FATAL CONTRACT." ACT II. SCENE II. Aphelia has been contracted by mutual vows to Clovis, younger brother of the young king of France, Clotair, and imagines in this scene that she is to be brought into the presence of Clovis, instead of whom she is brought to Clotair by the treachery of the Eunuch. Enter APHELIA, and the Eunuch, with a wax-taper. A silent sorrow from mine eyes would steal, Eun. You are too tender of your honour, lady, Too full of aguish trembling; the noble prince Is as December frosty in desire; Save what is lawful, he not owns that heat, [APHELIA reads the book. She must be brought by me: she'll steel them on Aph. (Reading.) How witty sorrow has found Fitting a midnight season: here I see Enter CLOTAIR. great poet's works. He was born in 1602, and received his education at Oxford. This is all that is mentioned of him by the compilers of the Biographia Dramatica. Her virtues more than beauty ravish'd me, Though I do know it is a deed of death, Aph. Alack, poor maid! Poor ravish'd Philomel! thy lot was ill Alack, why not? say he should offer foul, And night, his friend, might overtempt his will. Clot. I am resolved, I will be bold and resolute : Hail, beauteous damsel! Aph. Ha! what man art thou, That hast thy countenance clouded with thy cloak, speak, And wherefore camest thou hither? Clot. I came to find one beautiful as thou-.... Aph. I understand you not. Clot. But you must; yea, and the right way too. Aph. Help! help! help! Clot. Peace! none of your loud music, lady: If you raise a note, or beat the air with clamour, You see your death. [Draws his dagger. Aph. What violence is this, inhuman sir? Why do you threaten war, fright my soft peace With most ungentle steel? What have I done Dangerous, or am like to do? Why do you wrack me thus ? Mine arms are guilty of no crimes, do not torment 'em ; Mine heart and they have been heaved up together For mankind that was holy; if in that act Clot. Methinks I stand like Tarquin in the night They have not pray'd for you, mend, and be holy. When he defiled the chastity of Rome, Doubtful of what to do; and like a thief, I take each noise to be an officer. [She still reads on. She has a ravishing feature, and her mind Is of a purer temper than her body: The fault is none of theirs. Clot. Come, do not seem more holy than you are, I know your heart. Aph. Let your dagger too, noble sir, strike home, And sacrifice a soul to chastity, As pure as is itself, or innocence. Aph. I dare not fear; it's treason to suspect My king can harbour thoughts that tend to ill: I know your godlike good, and have but tried How far weak woman durst be virtuous. Clot. Cunning simplicity, thou art deceived; Thy wit as well as beauty wounds me, and thy tongue In pleading for thee pleads against thyself: My will to sin you cannot; you may force This deed will lie conceal'd? the faults kings do Clot. I will endure no longer: come along, ANOTHER SCENE FROM THE SAME. Persons.-CLOVIS, CLOTAIR, STREPHON, LAMOT the Physician, Eunuch, APHELIA. In the sequel of the story, the guards of the king having fallen upon Clovis, he is apparently killed, but is nevertheless secretly cured of his wounds, and assumes a disguise. In the mean time, the queen mother, anxious to get rid of Aphelia, causes one of her own paramours to dress in the armour of Prince Clovis, and to demand, in the character of his ghost, that Aphelia shall be sacrificed upon his hearse. Clotair pretends to comply with this sacrifice, and Aphelia is brought out to execution; but when all is ready, he takes the sword from the headsman, lays it at her feet, and declares her his queen. Clovis attends in disguise, and the poet makes him behave with rather more composure than we should expect from his trying situation; but when he sees his mistress accept the hand of his royal brother, he at last breaks out. Clovis. WHERE am I? Awake! for ever rather let me sleep. Is this a funeral? O that I were a hearse, And not the mock of what is pageanted.* Clotair. Amazement quite confounds me-Clovis alive! [desire Lamot. Yes, sir, by my art he lives, though his Was not to have it known; this chest contains Nothing but spices sweetly odoriferous. Clotair. Into my soul I welcome thee, dear brother; This second birth of thine brings me more joy Than had Aphelia brought me forth an heir, Whom now you must remember as a sister. Clovis. O that in nature there was left an art Could teach me to forget I ever loved This her great masterpiece! O well-built frame, If that our vows are register'd in heaven, Has not yet cool'd the breath with which thou sworest Thyself into my soul; and on thy cheeks I am no spirit; taste my active pulse, Eun. The queen! she faints. Clovis. Is there a God left so propitious Lamot. Are you mad? [were! Lamot. See, she's return'd, and with majestic In pity rather than contempt, beholds you. Clovis. Convey me hence, some charitable man, Clotair. Rule your disorder'd tongue; Clovis. I had forgot myself, yet well remember Yon gorgon has transform'd me into stone; * A hearse, supposed to contain the corpse of Clovis, forms a part of the pageant here introduced. And since that time my language has been harsh, Whose natural sweetness would invite mine eyes That eat'st into my marrow, turn'st my blood, Clotair. You have done ill, And must be taught so; you capitulate Aphelia. Arise : And henceforth, Clovis, thus instruct thy soul; And I, as thus you see, bestow'd. I will no more offend you: would to God Clotair. Where there's no help its bootless to complain; Clovis, she's mine: let not your spirit war Clovis. A long farewell to love; thus do I break [Breaks the ring. Your broken pledge of faith; and with this kiss, [The king, CLOTAIR, pulls him. JAMES SHIRLEY. [Born, 1596. Died, 1666.] He was JAMES SHIRLEY was born in London. educated at Cambridge,* where he took the degree of A. M., and had a curacy for some time at or near St. Alban's, but embracing popery, became a schoolmaster [1623] in that town. Leaving this employment, he settled in London as a dramatic writer, and between the years 1625 and 1666 published thirty-nine plays. In the civil wars he followed his patron, the Earl of Newcastle, to the field; but on the decline of the royal cause, returned to London, and as the FROM THE TRAGEDY OF "THE CARDINAL." Valeria. SWEET madam, be less thoughtful; this obedience To passion will destroy the noblest frame He had studied also at Oxford, where Wood says that Laud objected to his taking orders, on account of a mole on his left cheek, which greatly disfigured him. This fastidiousness about personal beauty, is certainly beyond the Levitical law. [As no mention of Shirley occurs in any of the public records of Oxford, the duration of his residence at St. John's College cannot be determined.-DYCE's Life, p. v.] theatres were now shut, kept a school in Whitefriars, where he educated many eminent characters. At the reopening of the theatres he must have been too old to have renewed his dramatic labours; and what benefit the Restoration brought him as a royalist, we are not informed. Both he and his wife died on the same day, immediately after the great fire of London, by which they had been driven out of their house, and probably owed their deaths to their losses and terror on that occasion.† And ceremonies black for him that died. Duch. Ladies, I thank you both. [Shirley was the last of a great race, all of whom spoke nearly the same language, and had a set of moral feelings and notions in common. A new language, and quite a new turn of tragic and comic interest, came in with the Restoration.-LAMB.] Upon my heart, for him I lost. Even this That may delight. You two are read in all Val. I have examined All that are candidates for praise of ladies, Duch. No, no; speak freely. Val. I will not rack your patience, madam, but Were I a princess, I should think Count D'Alvarez Had sweetness to deserve me from the world. Duch. Alvarez! she's a spy upon my heart. [Aside. Val. He's young and active, and composed most sweetly. Duch. I have seen a face more tempting. A rough-hewn man, and may show well at distance; Duch. What is it to be born above these ladies, To tell the king he hath no power nor art Our mutual vows, thou canst suspect it possible D'Alv. Your grace's pardon: To speak with freedom, I am not so old I am not ignorant your birth and greatness Has pleased to cast a beam, which was not meant Duch. Misery Of birth and state! that I could shift into D'Alv. "Tis not a name that makes Hangs a portent to fright us, and the matter Duch. Then you do look on them with fear? That should think tears a duty to lament Your least unkind fate; but my youth dares boldly Duch. What if Columbo, Engaged in war, in his hot thirst of honour, D'Alv. "Tis possible. Duch. Or say, no matter by what art or motive, He gives his title up, and leave me to My own election. D'Alv. If I then be happy To have a name within your thought, there can Of marriage leave no thought at leisure to So much of what I was once in your favour, Two lovers in their chaste embrace to meet. the paper; They are a pair of burning-glasses, and Card. What lethargy could thus unspirit him? Duch. My lord, You do believe your nephew's hand was not Card. Strange arts and windings in the worldmost dark And subtle progresses. Who brought this letter? Duch. I inquired not his name. I thought it not Considerable to take such narrow notice. Card. Desert and honour urged it here, nor can I blame you to be angry; yet his person Obliged you should have given a nobler pause Before you made your faith and change so violent From his known worth, into the arms of one, However fashion'd to your amorous wish, Not equal to his cheapest fame, with all The gloss of blood and merit. Duch. This compassion, My good lord cardinal, I cannot think Flows from an even justice, it betrays You partial where your blood runs. Card. I fear, madam, Your own takes too much license, and will soon Or honour, to your bed-must he supplant him? Duch. My fame, lord cardinal! It stands upon an innocence as clear I shall not urge, my lord, your soft indulgence Card. You are a fine court lady. Duch. And you should be a reverend churchman. Card. One that, if you have not thrown off Would counsel you to leave Alvarez. [modesty, Duch. 'Cause you dare do worse Than marriage, must not I be admitted what Card. Insolent! then you dare marry him? Columbo's rage higher than that, meet us |